Morbid Love
by coleys17
Summary: *Watching The Walking Dead so I'm on a zombie spree couldn't help but think of John and Sherlock during the apocalypse!* Ex-soldier Dr. John Watson returns to London after a tour in Afghanistan just as a deadly virus starts to spread killing millions but some return with a hunger for living flesh! ***(Dramatic music) Very corny!***Lots of language, maybe some Johnlock. AU
1. Pink Bathrobe

*Watching The Walking Dead so I'm on a zombie spree couldn't help but think of John and Sherlock during the apocalypse!*

He didn't know where or when it started but the moment Dr. John Watson returned from Afghanistan the world had gone to shit almost overnight! Stepping off the plane on to the tarmac he was instantly bombarded "Are you a doctor?" a man in a black suit that closely resembled the men in black questioned. John was so taken back by the severity of the way the question was asked that he was confused "What?" he asked the man.

Suddenly the suited man grabbed John by the shoulders shaking him quite violently "Are you a fucking doctor?" he hissed. If John hadn't been so stunned solider mode would have kicked in and the suited man would have been on the asphalt "Yes, yes damnit I am," John snapped relieved when the other man released him. Without another word John was pulled away towards a waiting black SUV. He was thrown through the door into the back and locked inside "Hey!" John shouted as the suited man yelled at the driver to go.

The SUV lurched forward, tires squealing on the asphalt slamming John into the seat. It took only moments for him to collect himself "Where are you taking me?" John growled extremely beyond irritated. The driver kept his eyes on the road "I don't know much," the man started pushing up and over the speed limit as the car went off the tarmac on to the public streets, "I was only told to collect any doctors unloading and take them to ST. Bart's as quickly as possible." John fixed the man with a hard look his brown eyes searching him for answers.

"What's happened?" the doctor side of John came out. The driver shook his head turning the wheel sharply sending John sliding across the seat. Protesting horns followed them as the driver straightened the SUV "Like I said I don't know much. Last few days have been insane. One moment everything is fine the next the worlds gone to Hell." The man answered John bit his lip. The twenty-eight hour fight had left him exhausted and it sounded like something catastrophic had happened so it seemed he would go sleep deprived for a while.

"What do you mean?" Dr. John asked hoping for a little more information. The driver clenched the wheel making his knuckles turn white "People been getting sick, not normal sick. It starts with a cough and by nightfall you're on the floor drowning in your own sick. If you live through that by the next morning you're burning with a fever so hot it blisters your skin and by the next night you're dead. Then there's the rumors," the man replied his voice drifting away. John watched the driver's face whiten "Rumors?" John pressed as the driver slammed on the breaks in front of St. Bart's.

The door was pulled open not giving the driver any chance to answer as hands dragged John from the back. "You are a doctor yes?" a short woman asked fiercely. John glanced back as the SUV sped away. "Yes why am I here?" he snapped in response. The woman waved for him to follow. "I'm Mary and we are swamped with incoming patients. We call in for every doctor we can find." She explained John followed reluctantly "So you've resorted to kidnapping?" he questioned Mary threw him a look "You don't understand," she simply replied as they went inside.

John froze inside the doors Mary was right he didn't understand. The lobby was crowded, packed with people. They were everywhere all in various degrees of illness. Blood was splashed in the crème titles with hundreds of bloody footprints tracking it in different directions. The room smelled of blood, sickness, and death. It was filled with pressing fear. Every person in the room was talking their voice blending together all tight with terror.

"Doctor," Mary urged John took a moment to pull himself together before fighting through the crowds "Please!" the people pleaded grabbing at his clothes "Please!" they called together but John only apologized and kept moving following Mary closely. Once through the throng it didn't get much better. People still lined the halls "We don't have the staff to take on this many and that is why we have taken extreme measures," Mary spoke still leading him down the halls.

"What is it?" John asked getting a glance from Mary "I wish I could tell you," she answered as a woman screamed from a nearby room. They paused in stunned surprised as the screaming woman rushed from her room straight into John "God! Help me!" the woman yelled clutching John. To his horror her eyes were gushing blood "God! Please!" her voice cried as men pulled her from John. "What the fuck?" John barely managed noticing the woman's blood had splattered on his jacket. "It's nothing we have ever seen," Mary said softly John noted she wasn't surprised by the state of the woman.

"What can you tell me?" John asked as they started down the hall again "Don't let them bite you," Mary replied he gave her a confused look that was missed. "Mary!" Mary!" someone was shouting urgently. A man pushed his way around people his scrubs covered in blood "We need you now!" the man snapped when he spotted her. Mary leapt into action sprinting after the running man. John followed.

Racing down the halls they were able to spot the man hurrying into a room to the right. Inside the room a multitude if people moved around a bed the beeping heart monitor had flat lined. The blood covered man was yelling out orders but everyone was moving, doing those things without his word. A nurse was pressing the paddles on the exposed chest of the patient "Clear!" she shouted moments before the body convulsed under her. John stood back knowing he would be more in the way than helpful. The nurse with defibrillator called 'clear' a dozen more times before the room grew quiet. The machines were the only noise in the room as everyone sagged, defeated.

Mary stepped towards the blood covered man laying her hand on his shoulder "Jeremy," she whispered. John couldn't see her face but her tone was questioning. Glancing around everyone was looking to the man, waiting.

_Waiting for what?_

The questioned answered itself when Jeremy sighed stepping from Mary's hand closing the distance between him and the bed. Everyone moved back giving John a clear view of what was about to happen. As Jeremy closed in on the bed he reached into his pocket and extracted a gun! John gasped staring as the doctor aimed at the dead man on the bed "What the…" John was saying as the man pulled the trigger shooting the body in the head cutting off any words from John's mouth.

John stood with his mouth hanging open from the unfinished profanity after the shoot faded completely flabbergasted by what he had just watched "Are you fucking insane?!" he shouted drawing every eye to him, "Why the fuck did you do that?!" they seemed all stunned by his outburst. Jeremy looked at Mary "New doctor?" he asked her getting a nod as a response. Mary stepped towards John who instinctively backed up. "Come out to the hall and let me explain," she urged stopping gesturing for the hall. John eyed her and to Jeremy's pocket where the gun was hiding.

Reluctantly he went "Now what just happened?" John growled once they were in the hall and everyone had moved on. Mary sighed looking extremely tired "This illness is nothing like we have ever seen," she stated John snorted "You've mentioned that now get to the part to shooting dead patients in the head!" he hissed Mary gave him a long look "You won't believe me. No one ever does at first." She told him. John fixed Mary with a glare until she continued "Every patient we've had come in with this sickness die within hours. But they don't exactly stay dead…" Mary said her voice fading as she looked to him.

"What?" John asked not believing those words had just come from her mouth Mary shuffled "The dead are coming back to life," she repeated weakly. He stood staring at her before glancing around slowly "Are you fucking kidding me?" John snapped suddenly startling Mary. "Do you really expect me to believe that bullshit?" he asked throwing his hands above his head. "Mary did you listen to yourself? That's insane! And completely ridiculous!" John hissed Mary pursed her lips "I told you, you wouldn't believe me. No one ever does," she said as a new scream of terror erupted behind them.

John turned to see what the fuss was about. A woman stood in the hall feet from him she was wearing a bright pink bathrobe loosely tied around her waist. Around her neck dried blood stained the pale skin, an odd growling sound was emanating from her as she stood hunched looking around. Her eyes turned to John and he gasped. The pupils were glazed almost white, like those of a corpse. The woman lurched towards him giving a throaty roar. John reacted quickly drawing his gun from its place tucked into the back of his pants without a second thought he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit her heart directly but the woman didn't seem to feel it and kept coming. John panicked for a second astonished before aiming his gun higher releasing another shot.

The woman fell heavily to the floor a new hole in her head. Thick congealed blood crept over the tiles. John slowly lowered the gun his heart pounding away at his rib cage "What the…" John croaked. The woman had been shot in the heart! That should have been enough to put her down but it wasn't "Only head shot keep them down," Mary whispered behind him. John turned towards her starting to feel nauseous. Mary had a weak smile her eyes on the pink lady's still form "Believe me now?" she asked a single tear rolling down her face.

* Reviews please let me know if I should continue. Thanks :D


	2. Savior

*Here's the second chapter! Made this personally for my one review and one follower! Thanks **Truly** **Sherlockian** and **WoweeHarryPotter** hope you two enjoy this! I will also continue with this with following chapters! ****Strong Language****

**One Month Later**

_Jesus Fucking Christ!_

John thought frantically pressing himself closer into the dumpster. For the last five minutes he had been running and it seemed to be doing little good with the rampaging horde of corpse.

_I need to get out of the fucking city!_

This wasn't the first time John had thought this but he felt too responsible for the people inside the hospital. A week ago they had run out of food and he had volunteered to venture outside to scavenge. That had been a day ago. John had gone to every store within the surrounding blocks and was lucky enough to find a decent amount of canned goods.

Then this fucking horde came out of nowhere and started swarming the streets around the hospital! John had very nearly been eating about a dozen times.

_I can't give up on them._

He knew that it was a bad idea but he wasn't going to let those dozen or so people relying on him to die. Biting the inside of his cheek John peeked around the heavy metal dumpster. A few walkers shuffled beyond the alley.

_At least it's not a horde._

John growled.

_Don't sound so cheerful, this place is still fucked up._

He had been doing that a lot lately. John was at war with himself, the doctor and soldier in him were having a difficult time coexisting especially now that the world was…for lack of better worlds…fucked up.

Leaning back into the dumpster John's elbow connected with the side making aloud echoing bang, he froze. Hoping to God that the corpse would write it off as one of their own, an animalistic growl shattered that hope.

_Shit!_

John shouted mentally pushing himself to his feet and sprinted down the alley, not looking back to see if he was indeed being followed. The hungry screams and cries following him was enough to confirm that. John searched frantically for an open door, for a narrow side alley, somewhere he could get them thinned enough he wouldn't have a problem bashing their skulls in. He had his gun (for emergencies only) and a sharpened piece of metal with duct tape for a handle, barbaric but efficient.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" John chanted as he ran eyeing the other end of the alley.

_Please, don't have more waiting!_

Coming out John's fear level leapt.

_More fucking zombies!_

He barely took the time to see a dozen more corpse lingering in the street before taking off away from them, listening as their running feet joined those already following. Ducking into another alley John looked for more sharp turns that might help him loose them.

Right, left, right, right, left. John weaved in and out of alleys, losing some and gaining others.

_At least it's not a horde!_

The doctor side tried again to be cheerful.

_Shut the fuck up!_

Even John was agreeing with solider side right now. Throwing a glance over his shoulder John saw that a little over a dozen were still after him. Spying a narrow dead end John decided to make his stand. Putting his back to the back wall John had his weapon out.

The zombies weren't shy and they rushed him just as they always do. Keeping his empty hand back John swung decapitating two in one swoop. Kicking out while he recovered, John forced the others back.

_Too many!_

John's thoughts screamed, cutting through another one. As he moved to recover one barreled into him, John managed to remain upright and pulled his arm up against the monsters throat. It roared in his face, wriggling and snapping to get at him. John brought his weapon up and pushed through the things head.

Another one was one him instantly "Shit!" John growled knowing he was minutes away from being the next meal.

Suddenly the weight was gone in a swirl of black. John was stunned, leaning onto the wall behind him. A man had joined him in the small back alley. The newcomer was a whirl as he swung, corpse were dropping left and right.

Noticing the approach of more zombies John pulled himself back to his senses and moved into help. Keeping an eye on his savior John made his way through the incoming dead. Left, right, kick, left, right, kick. John came up on the last walker.

Before he could swing the other man dove in shoving a very sharp look sword, yes sword, right through the corpse. Silence followed as the body fell. John couldn't help but stare at the man.

"Follow me," His savior snapped stowing his sword and started running down the alley. Startled John threw himself forward hurrying to keep up. His shorter legs had to work hard and he was doing a decent job but the almost two days without sleep were getting to the ex-soldier. The taller man seemed to sense this and slowed his pace.

Navigating the back alleys, John followed the mysterious man for several minutes without a word. He couldn't help but scan the area with every new turn and was surprised they were all clear.

"Most of these alleys are blocked off from the main roads," The man spoke quietly. John heard but still kept a lookout. A few more minutes before the tall man stopped by a door and pulled out a key. Unlocking the door he opened it and gestured for John to enter.

He eyed the darkness within with a moment's hesitation but saw no better solution. Diving in John was quickly followed by the taller man. The darkness was pressing and made John almost panic. A click and lights suddenly came alive "Solar generator," his savior replied to John's unspoken question before striding gracefully further into the room.

John looked around. He was now in a very neat little room that looked more like a stage than anything. He was standing in a living room occupied by a couch to his right, two armchairs in front of him with a coffee table in between them, and a desk piled with papers pressed the wall near the furthest armchair.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" the taller man asked.

John looked to the man, seeing him properly for the first time. He was a full head taller than the short doctor. A mop of clean and curly black hair topped his head. Green/blue eyes searched John with a look of impatience. The man wore a black trench and a blue scarf wrapped around a slim white neck. In between the folds of black John spotted a spotless white button up and black slacks matched with shining dress shoes.

The taller man sighed; a look of irritation went across his features. He began pulling black leather gloves from his white fingers and stuffed them in his pockets.

"Are you in shock? By your calm domineer I would say no, you've seen battle before so something like this doesn't bother you and you are a doctor so definitely not in shock." The man spouted out.

John stared at him wanting nothing more than to question the mystery man but he suddenly felt his legs give out, slumping into the wall behind him John barely managed to keep himself upright before sliding to the floor. A blurred dark figure approached as John fell quickly unconscious.


	3. Why Him?

*Here we are chapter 3! Barely hanging in there during the zombie invasion but I think we might survive!

Sherlock Holmes was never one to care. So the end of humanity did little to change him to that. The quiet was something Sherlock had come to really enjoy, no traffic noise or boring buzz of daily conversation, but when the world stopped so did everything else. This annoyed the man to no end!

_Now I'm stuck being alone with nothing to do!_

He snapped scratching his arm that had nicotine patches stuck to it. Sherlock couldn't just sit in his safe haven, not when it got so boring he was half tempted to make enough noise to draw a horde of dead.

_That wouldn't be very intelligent…_

Sherlock knew that at any moment he could get out of the infected zone but that would mean contacting his brother which would lead to being locked inside a dark hole with even less to do. He shuddered at the thought.

_Locked in a hole with Mycroft…I'll take my chances with the walking dead people._

After a week locked inside Sherlock needed to wander, he needed the silence of the streets or a few corpse to chop up, either one would be a nice change.

So there he was strolling down the street, not bothered by the group of dead approaching. When they got too close Sherlock dealt with them skillfully and kept right on walking.

He had been out for hours cutting down dead to his heart content, growing bored when they went down to easily. As Sherlock passed an alley he caught sight of a running man. Backing up he watched the man sliding around a corner closely followed by a large number of corpse.

_Not good…that's a dead end._

_You'll get trapped in there…_

Sherlock stood pondering before curiosity drove him towards the alley. Peeking around the corner Sherlock watched the short man in the dead end.

_Soldier and doctor…near middle aged…hasn't slept in a day, no two days almost…scavenging for food meaning he's with a bigger group…_

As Sherlock deduced the man, a corpse flew into the fighting doctor throwing him to the walk. Sherlock was surprised the man didn't fall but he did look to be struggling. When that corpse was down another followed "Shit!" the other man in the alley hissed and Sherlock knew if he didn't jump in to help the man wouldn't last much longer.

_Why help him?_

Pulling out his trusty sword without pondering the thought, Sherlock stepped forward taking one corpse from behind. A few others were in his way but they were simple. Pulling the one from the doctor, Sherlock went back to slaying the others. Noting more were coming, Sherlock glanced over just as the other man flew back into action.

_Lots of stamina..._

He observed before throwing himself into battle. The doctor was coming in to finish off the last walker when Sherlock felt an urge to show off.

Hurrying in front of the other man, Sherlock sliced into the corpse. The short man did indeed look at him in awe. Sherlock let a small smile cross his lips before schooling his features back to one of disinterest.

"Follow me," Sherlock heard himself say.

_What?!_

He was surprised by the words that had slipped out of his mouth. Sherlock wanted this man to live. Why?

_Why indeed..._

Moving on Sherlock hurried away, gladly noting that the other man followed without hesitation. He led him through the safe back alleys before noticing the doctor had slowed down.

_No sleep and no food...he has to be exhausted!_

Sherlock glanced to see the man looking around, hand fingering an exposed handgun.

"Most of these alleys are blocked from the main roads." Sherlock spoke hoping to reassure the man.

If he heard the doctor gave no indication, only continued to follow. Coming up on his haven, Sherlock pulled out his key and unlocked the door, gesturing for the other man to go first. The doctor looked inside with a bit of hesitation before moving into the darkness. Sherlock followed closing and locking the door behind him. The other man stood staring around the room without saying a word when the lights came on.

"Solar generator," Sherlock answered the doctor's silent question.

He was on the verge of asking the man if he wanted food or rest when Sherlock caught him looking at him.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" It was irritating since the man hadn't spoken a single word.

"Are you in shock? By your calm domineer I would say no, you've seen battle before so something like this doesn't bother you and you are a doctor so definitely not in shock."

The man still didn't speak instead he slumped to the floor, passed out. Sherlock stepped towards the doctor, glad to see he was still breathing.

_Never had that reaction to a deduction before._

Sherlock thought smugly looking down on the man, crouching for a better look. Sherlock saw more than before.

_Army medic, shoulder injury...shot? Sent home invalid. Never had a serious relationship, abusive father...alcoholic most likely. Younger sibling...older brother? Hasn't showered in two weeks, still applies deodorant…_

_Better get him off the floor before that shoulder gets stiff…_

Carefully Sherlock was able to lift the unconscious man and carrying him to the bedroom through the kitchen. Laying him gently on the bed, Sherlock stepping back,

_Get his shoes off, he'll be more comfortable…_

_And his jacket._

Quickly Sherlock did just that. Pulling the covers over the man, he backed out of the room. Standing in th kitchen alone Sherlock wasn't sure what to do with himself until the doctor woke.

_Can't leave him alone, can't be loud…he needs rest, food and water…that's what he'll need._

Proud of his new found insight to human interaction, Sherlock filled up a cup from the tap, glad once again for the solar generator. Quietly moving back into the bed room he set the cup on the side table for the doctor to find before hurrying back into the kitchen.

_Now food…what do I have?_

Scouring the cupboards Sherlock produced a box of squashed pasta, a tomato, a small stick of butter, and a garlic clove.

_Might need to get some food later…but for now this will do…_

Sherlock wasn't much for eating. He could spend days without touching anything edible. He knew it wasn't the healthiest but when he was working food was a distraction and he hated distractions more. Following the instructions on the pasta and a little improvisation, Sherlock created something that smelled like food and was hot.

*Reviews always welcomed!


	4. Not A Threat

Food, John could smell food. Not only did he smell food but it was hot food. The delicious aroma filled every cell of the doctor's starved frame. The smell of food was strong enough to wake him but it wasn't enough to motivate John into getting up just yet. Somehow he had ended up lying nearly clothed on a very, soft and comfortable bed.

_How did I get here?_

_And where is here exactly?_

The last thing John remembered was being saved by a mystery man and walking into a strange little building with working electricity. Opening his eyes, he took the moment to observe his surroundings. What John could see, he was in a bedroom, with a closet, dresser, and a bed.

Slowly the doctor sat, the last of his exhaustion melting away. The room was plain with an uninhabited feel. John noticed a glass of water sitting invitingly on a bedside table. The water stood no chance against the ex-solider, mere seconds later the glass stood empty.

Closing his eyes feeling the cool wetness seeping through his body, John felt a shred of tension fall away. A muffled sound of dishes being used caught the doctor's curiosity. Removing the covers and placing his bare feet on the floor, John stood. Creeping silently for the door, solider mode fully initiated. Slowly twisting the knob he eased the door open to peer out.

John could see a tall man with his back towards him, the man's body swayed slightly as he moved. The sound of sizzling and the smell of melted butter hit John. An audible growl grumbled from the soldier but it was drowned out by the tall man suddenly tossing a cup into the sink nearby.

Once the man's attention was fully focused on the cooking, John slipped out into the kitchen eyeing a knife sitting on the table. What he was going to do the doctor wasn't sure but he hated not knowing what was going on and he was going to get answers no matter the cost.

Sliding his feet along the floor so as not to make any noise John made his way closer to the table, his hand stretching for the weapon

"Doctor, I assure you that is not necessary," the tall man at the stove spoke, his deep baritone voice reverberating through John's chest.

The solider froze his eyes on the man's back, hand hovering just over the knife. With an irritated huff the other man turned, the sharpness of his cheekbones was dramatic casting deep shadows on his face. John watched the man slowly straightening.

"If I were a threat I would have taken my opportunity while you were passed out in my bed," The mystery man spoke quickly with a very annoyed tone, John couldn't help but blush with the mention of the man's bed. "As it is I, whom saved you, think even you would be able to come to the understanding that I mean you no harm."

John felt absolutely silly now that it had been spelled out for him like that but of course he would never admit that to this stranger. The man stared at the doctor. They just stood facing each other without speaking.

"I made you food," the mystery man told him.

John blinked at him "What?"

The man frowned "Has the apocalypse addled your brain or have you always been this slow?" the doctor glared at the man for the insult but didn't interrupt as he continued speaking, "I made you food. I deduced you hadn't eaten in sometime." With the man turned back to the stove.

"Deduced?" John asked curiously.

"Yes doctor deduction is my specialty," the tall man muttered setting a plate of pasta on the table.

"Deductions, like observing and stuff?" he asked eyeing the food.

The other man smirked "Sit, eat, and I'll tell you." He said John didn't need to be asked twice. Sitting down quickly, it took all his control not to forget the fork and just start shoveling with his fingers.

"Yes observing and stuff is what I do," the man confirmed watching the doctor eat.

"That how you knew I was a doctor," John asked getting a nod from the other man.

"And that you are a solider sent home invalid from, Iraq or Afghanistan?" the last part was a question.

"Afghanistan, but how did you get that?" John was awed.

"The tan line on your arms and neck, it suggests tight clothing which can come from a uniform. Plus your stance and hair cut are strictly military disciplined."

"So it's mostly guessing?" the doctor asked before taking a large bite.

The other man snorted "I never guess!" he huffed.

John chuckled "That was amazing by the way," he added receiving a surprised look from the man.

"Really?"

"Extremely,"

"That's not what most people say," the other man murmured a light bit of color rising in his pale cheeks.

"What do they say?"

"Piss off,"

John chuckled pushing the empty plate away from him "Well if it makes you feel better those people are dead," the other man chuckled. They soon were laughing in earnest.

"I shouldn't have sad that," John snorted glancing over at the man.

"You don't hear me complaining," he said a wide smile on his face.

"We have a morbid sense of humor," the doctor returned the smile.

"Well you are a doctor and solider," the other man pointed out, "and I used to consult for Scotland Yard so I've seen my share of dead bodies."

"And now we also reside in the zombie apocalypse. It seems fate knew what it was doing with us." John said.

"It seems so," the other man agreed. They looked at each other smiling.

"I'm John Watson by the way," John introduced himself holding out his hand. The man looked down at the offered hand before bringing his eyes back to John's.

"Sherlock Holmes," the taller man greeted taking the hand and giving it a shake.

*Review please!*


	5. I've Never

*Sorry this took so long! It's nice and long. The words just kept coming out and I had to force myself to stop! So enjoy my lovely readers!

This doctor was an intriguing man. He was definitely special, not the usual dullness of average people. The man had a spark, drawing Sherlock to him like a moth to a flame.

"So Mr. Holmes why did you save me?" John asked smirking.

Sherlock stared at the man's lips feeling a twinge of attraction. That was new the tall man didn't usual find anybody attractive, male or female. Sherlock just didn't find anyone that interesting but this solider before him was…to be blunt, hot!

"I was bored saving you gave me something to do." Not exactly a lie, Sherlock had indeed been bored but saving John had been more of a whim.

"Glad my life-threatening moment was entertaining for you," the doctor chuckled with an eye roll. That husky laugh was thrilling sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Now I am glad I did," Sherlock told the man receiving a surprised look, "It's better to talk with someone then to the zombies." He explained.

Chuckling John nodded "I pegged you as the loner type,"

"I am a high-functioning sociopath," Sherlock clarified.

"Right I can definitely see that," the doctor said sounding the least bit convinced.

Sherlock glared. It was the first time anyone had not believed in his self-proclamation. People normally had no trouble in believing his claim.

"If you were a so called sociopath you wouldn't have saved me even if you were bored," John pointed out, smiling triumphantly.

Sherlock snorted bewildered that he was hearing those words coming from the near stranger's mouth "How many are in your group back at the hospital?" he asked changing the subject.

John stared at him in disbelief "How on earth did you come by that?"

Sherlock smiled knowing he will never tire in explaining his deductions to John "When we first met I noticed the bag of canned goods, obviously more people to feed than just yourself. You are a doctor probably recruited after landing at the airport and taking to St. Bart's so naturally you and your group resides in the hospital."

John chuckled shaking his head "Brilliant!" he breathed, "And to answer your question about a dozen. We're on the second floor in the hospital, makes it easier to defend."

"Getting out of the city would be the best plan," Sherlock told him.

"Would you come if we left?" John asked looking hopeful. The taller man stared noting the longing in the other man's voice.

"No I wouldn't," Sherlock saw the disappointment in John's eyes, "I am a single person and it won't be as hard for me to survive in the city."

The doctor sighed "Then I don't want to leave," he murmured a blush coloring his cheeks. Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

The taller man jumped from his seat, bouncing on his heels "We should get that food of yours to the hospital," he announced heading for the living room.

"Really?" John asked following glancing at the only clock available, "It's near dark we shouldn't be out there," he cautioned though Sherlock suspected that it was just an excuse.

Looking at the same clock the taller man found John was right. Being on the streets after dark was the meaning of stupidity especially now with the walking dead people, not to mention the hundreds of other frightened survivors that may or may not be so friendly.

"Very well we'll just have to wait until morning," Sherlock agreed the least bit disappointed. He didn't want this fantastic man out of his sight just yet. Studying the clock a little longer the detective calculated the time between here and hospital, finding they could have made it there before dark without a problem but deciding against mentioning it.

"Since we're in for the night, would you want to shower?" Sherlock questioned receiving an expected look of surprise and confusion.

"Shower? As in an actual shower?" John asked disbelieving, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

Sherlock snorted and glared "Of course an 'actual shower', you really are slow aren't you?" he snapped as an answer.

John rolled his eyes without countering the insult. Sherlock eyed the man a moment before sighing and moving passed the doctor back into the kitchen and taking a sharp left. The bathroom was located right next to Sherlock's room. It was a tight space that barely fit the two side by side.

"Towels there and you can use my shampoo, go easy on the hot water." The taller man instructed facing John.

John's eyes drifted around the small room, coming to a halt on Sherlock "Hot water!" he breathed excitedly. The taller man smiled and nodded replacing his normal insult.

Maneuvering around the smaller man, Sherlock managed to force himself out of the bathroom into the kitchen, listening as John started the shower and shortly followed by a happy and content sigh. Smiling to himself Sherlock started to clean up.

_This John might be something to look into,_

He thought setting dishes in the sink before stopping, staring at the dishes.

_I'm doing dishes? Why am I doing dishes?_

Sherlock was floored, he only did dishes out of necessity and even then it was rare. Normally if it looked somewhat clean he would use it without any thought. His attention turned to listening to the shower in the background, the sudden image of a wet and naked John popped into his head.

_WHAT?!_

Sherlock shook his head feeling the heat burning in his cheeks. Clearing his throat he pulled himself away from the sink back into the living room, away from the noise of the shower. On his chair sat the beautiful dark red wood of a violin, his beautiful violin. Sherlock smiled at the familiar thing dragging a finger over the smooth surface.

Grabbing it up he plucked the strings and began to tune it until he was happy with the sound. Snatching up the bow from the desk Sherlock drew it across the strings slowly before going into a song of his own composition. It was a slow content piece that flowed through the flat.

As the music moved about Sherlock closed his eyes feeling each note streaming from him. The quiet sound of the bathroom door being opened sounded in violinist's ears but he kept playing listening hard to the steps that drew the doctor into the living room.

He played for some minutes more before drawing the last note out in an echoing sound. Still holding his position Sherlock sighed, opening his eyes before slowly lowering the instrument. Turning he found John seated in the remaining armchair in the living room looking like he belonged.

John smiled giving Sherlock a quiet applause "Wonderful!" the doctor exclaimed. His hair still damp and stuck up at different angles.

Sherlock smiled mocking a bow, setting the violin gently down on the desk "It was acceptable," he said flopping on to his chair. Turning to dangle his long legs over one of the arms, Sherlock lounged. John watched shaking his head and chuckling.

"So Mr. Holmes…" John started instantly getting interrupted by Sherlock.

"Sherlock," the taller man corrected turning his head to look at the doctor.

"Right Sherlock," John started again, "early you mentioned you consulted for Scotland Yard,"

"Yes that is correct,"

"Were you a private detective or something?"

"Or something," Sherlock answered but didn't go on just continued to stare at the doctor. John looked comfortable even with the taller man's eyes on him. Normally people found Sherlock's eyes uncanny but the smaller man sat back in the other chair, smiling seeming not affected by the gaze.

_Interesting…_

John was becoming more and more unique in Sherlock's mind.

"And what was that exactly?" the doctor pressed clearly very curious.

Sherlock sighed throwing his head back into the armrest behind his head "A consulting detective, doubt that will make much sense to you," he huffed in annoyance.

"That's not a real thing is it now," John chuckled.

Sherlock spun in his seat until his feet hit the floor "Of course it's real!" he snapped, the doctor blinked surprised by the other man's tone.

"Alright sorry just never heard of a consulting detective," he mumbled.

Sherlock sighed "You wouldn't have heard of it, I made up the job."

"But you just said…"

"I'm the world's only consulting detective, I help solve cases that no one else can," the taller man clarified examining his finger nails in a bored fashion while keeping John's presence in mind.

"Scotland Yard went to an amateur?" the doctor asked.

Sherlock glared "Amateur? No, not at all, older brother, alcoholic?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your older brother is an alcoholic left his wife mmm…three months ago, no four months ago not that it matters now." The taller man spoke quickly watching John's eyes widen.

"How did you…" he went to ask before flinching as an object was thrown at him. Instinctively the ex-soldier caught it, surprised to find his cell phone.

"Where…"

"Nicked it from your bag," Sherlock answered before the question was even out.

"It doesn't work." John told him hearing a snort.

"Obviously but I didn't need to turn it on to found out all I needed," The other man said, "silly to keep it."

"I know," John sighed, "so how do you know about Harry?"

"First, engraving on the phone, H.W. obviously a relative, someone close enough to mail an old device so that narrowed it down to brother. Next, it says 'love, Clara' so wife not girlfriend, an expensive phone like this and only a few months old. If she had left him, he would have kept it, so he left her. Last, scratches around the port suggest shaking hands while being plugged in at night it's a stretch but alcoholism is my conclusion." Sherlock finished watching the bewilderment building on John's face.

"Amazing!" the doctor breathed.

"Not an amateur," Sherlock smiled with a wink, "did I get it right?" he was curious now though he knew he had most of it right.

"Harry is short for Harriet," John answered.

Sherlock glared and pouted "Damn! Sister!" he snapped at himself hearing a chuckle from John.

"It was still brilliant," he assured, "mind if I make some tea, I noticed a kettle?"

"Very well," Sherlock waved a hand at the man.

Sherlock's eyes followed John into the kitchen and watched him bob about as if he lived there. The smaller man moved around humming as he worked. The taller man stretched his neck up to see over the damned armchair blocking most of his view of the kitchen.

_If I move it he'll notice._

Sherlock growled to himself settling down barely satisfied with his menial view of John. Eyes drifting after the doctor, Sherlock noted the man's movements. Every now and then John would limp but he had been shot in the shoulder so why a limp?

_Psychosomatic limp…_

Sherlock concluded eyes moving along the doctor's body. Several minutes passed before the John returned to the kitchen carrying two steaming cups.

"Here I got you one too though I don't know how you take yours." He said pausing beside Sherlock's chair holding the cup out.

Sherlock blinked at the cup before his eyes darted to the doctor's face "Thank you," the taller man found himself saying as he accepted the cup, "I don't put anything in it for future reference," he added. John nodded moving for the chair that had becomes his in the short amount of time.

"So this zombie thing, you know what happened?" John asked taking a drink of his tea.

"Does it matter?" Sherlock asked not seeing the point of his knowing.

"Just curious," the smaller man said.

Sherlock eyed the man noting that the information was somehow important to the other man "A disease," he replied grabbing John's attention, "I was lucky enough to view a few sample before everything fell. The virus was aggressive with an incubation period of three days. It's nothing like I have seen before. There were characteristics of influenza and bubonic plague but nothing concessive. You saw the symptoms; there was nothing that could help slow it down. Quarantines did nothing, people panicked, it was absolute chaos."

John sighed rubbing his forehead "Is it an air pathogen, water, food, blood? What?"

Sherlock stared at him "It's in everything. You wither get sick or you don't but you carry…whatever it is with you."

"I think I need something a little stronger than tea," John laughed dryly looking suddenly depressed.

"There's some vodka under the sink," Sherlock informed him. John looked at his tea before setting it down to retrieve the alcohol.

"We need to make a toast," the doctor told Sherlock as he sat with the mostly full bottle and two cups.

"You go ahead I'm not one for alcohol," the taller man declined.

"Oh come on Sherlock! Have one drink with me," John pleaded pouring a generous amount of the drink, "Please, pretty please!"

"A word cannot have a physical appearance so putting 'pretty' before please does not persuade one," Sherlock snapped glaring at the doctor. John pushed out his bottom lip and gave him a pair of puppy dog eyes, holding out one of the glasses.

"Fine but only one," the taller man gave in taking the drink.

John laughed in triumph, holding his own glass up "What should we toast to?" he asked, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You were the one wanting a toast and me to drink. You can't expect me to have a prepared toast." He told the doctor. John stuck his tongue out at the taller man. Sherlock froze.

John was being playful even after being told some really depressing things but the damned soldier had gone from the expected reaction to that of a much younger man. Sherlock watched John sit back in his chair, thinking. The other man bit back a laugh watching John's thinking face.

_I wonder if I look like that when I'm thinking._

John was sitting, slouched down in his seat with his hands folded on his chest, his face held a frown and a furrowed brow. Sherlock watched the expression on the face change from one to the next before returning to the one before. The taller man enjoyed how expressive John's face was. The doctor was practically an open book, very easily read even without saying a word.

"Ok here we go, I got one but don't laugh," John finally said sitting forward again and raising his glass towards Sherlock's. Sherlock copied him waiting, John's blue eyes found his, focusing intently on the pupils.

"A toast to new friends and the preservation of mankind or what's left of it anyway," the doctor spoke quietly, knocking their glasses together carefully. Lowering his John drained it quickly. Sherlock sipped his, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down.

"You think of me as a friend?" he couldn't help but ask.

John blinked at him for a moment before answering "Of course, you saved me."

"You don't owe me anything," Sherlock assured hoping John did truly think of him as a friend.

"Sherlock I might not know you very well but I do know that you're not as much of a sociopath, high-functioning or not, as you think, purple is your favorite color, you are a wonderful violinist, and you take your tea plain. Knowing just that I want to be your friend and not only because you saved me."

Those words were strong and Sherlock had heard nothing like them when it came to describing him. Not even his brother had ever come close to anything like that.

"I've never had a friend before," Sherlock said softly taking a swift drink.

John's eyes widened "Never?" he sound disbelieving.

Sherlock didn't need words to answer so he just shook his head, occupying his mouth with finishing off his drink. Holding the empty cup out the taller man allowed John to fill it up again.

"How did you know my favorite color is purple?"

John smiled sheepishly "That was a deduction," he replied chuckling.

Sherlock smiled "Any other deductions you want to throw out there?" he asked.

"You have gorgeous eyes," John whispered along with a sharp cough his cheeks growing red, "if you don't mind me saying that is?"

Sherlock cleared his throat feeling heat in his own face, his mind flashing but to images of John in the shower. "Not really a deduction, it's merely a physical attribute," he paused seeing John looked thoroughly embarrassed, "but thank you."

"Hey let's play a drinking game," John suddenly blurted out, a not very subtle way of trying to change the subject, "Each one of us will say something they've never done and if the other one has they have to drink."

"Not a very interesting game," Sherlock snorted.

John glared "I'll go first Mr. Party Pooper, I have never been in prison." He watched as Sherlock took a drink "Really?" the doctor asked in surprise.

"It was for a case, it was only for a week," the taller man vaguely explained. Waiting a moment before speaking again, "I guess that means it my turn," he sighed, "I've never been in the army," there was a wicked grin after that.

John chuckled taking a drink "Prick," he murmured afterwards.

"I've never broken a bone," Sherlock took several drinks, "you only have to take one drink," John reminded.

Sherlock shrugged "I've broken almost every bone in my body. I thought the game deserved more than one drink," he handed his glass over to get refilled.

"I've never been to Afghanistan ,"

"Now you're just being obvious!"

"You never said I couldn't," Sherlock pointed out.

John rubbed his head "The point of the game is learning stuff about each other without being asked awkward questions."

"Fine, I've never been called anyone's friend before today," Sherlock spouted out.

John shook his head taking a drink "I think you're being obvious just to get me drunk," he said chuckling.

"We wouldn't need to be playing this silly game for that to happen," Sherlock said starting to feel a slight buzz building.

John burst out with a laugh "I think after everything that has happened we both deserve to get utterly pissed," he stated.

Sherlock chuckled "I'll toast to that," he raised his glass.

"To getting utterly pissed!" John announced beaming his cheek tinting from the alcohol.

They both drank. "I believe it is my turn," the doctor said getting no disagreement from Sherlock, "I've never worn a dress," the taller man shrugged and took a drink "Seriously? I was going for absurd!" John laughed.

"It was for a case," Sherlock said simply, "I've never had anyone not believe me when I said I was a sociopath,"

John smiled taking a drink "Well if you're keeping track I said that twice in less than an hour," he pointed out watching a smile grow on the other man's face.

"I've never been to the States," the doctor said not surprised when Sherlock took a drink, "Let me guess 'it was a case'?" he asked.

Sherlock shook his head "No, vacation when I was a child. Not particularly entertaining." He paused before going on, "I've never been to medical school," he threw in another wicked smile.

"Now I know you are trying to get me drunk!" John laughed refilling his cup after draining it.

"I'm trying to end this game," Sherlock corrected.

"I've never kissed a man," the doctor said watching the taller man closely. Sherlock kept his eyes on John as he took a drink finishing the glass.

"I have no preference in gender," he said simply keeping the excitement from his features.

"So no girlfriend…or…boyfriend?" John asked timidly.

Sherlock smiled softly "No one, up until the apocalypse I considered myself married to my work now…I don't know what I am." John stared at him before noticing he was and cleared his throat, looking away.

"Well then you are like me on that front," he spoke quietly draining his glass, "and with that I'm going go to sleep thanks for playing with me." John said as he stood, stretching his arms and wincing a bit.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked standing as well, moving closer to stand next to the other man.

Rubbing his shoulder John gave a reassuring smile "My should hurts if I'm not careful with it, still a bit tender after getting shot." He explained.

"Well go lay down on the bed and I'll give it a quick massage," Sherlock said waving towards the bedroom. John stared at him dumbfounded.

"What?"

Sherlock huffed spinning the doctor and pushed him a bit "Go lay down," he instructed. John started moving, glancing back at the taller man confused. Smiling Sherlock went about double checking the door locks and turning off lights before heading to the bedroom.

John was lying on his stomach as stiff as a board looking rather uncomfortable. Sherlock snorted at the man grabbing his attention.

"Take you shirt off," the taller man instructed. John looked like he wanted to protest but rolled over and sat up a little, reluctantly taking his shirt off. Sherlock's eyes wandered over the exposed skin with a faint grin before moving closer to the bed "Lie down on your stomach,"

John pursed his lips, without a word he did as he was told. The genius spotted the scar and winced. Pink, health but very scarred flesh clung to the shoulder. Reaching out a hand Sherlock touched the ruined skin, John flinched, hissing through his teeth "Does that hurt?" the taller man asked.

Turning his head the doctor looked at him "No it's just sensitive," John replied with a smile.

Sherlock nodded and took off his shoes, kneeling on the bed over John and began kneading the tight back muscles. As a child Sherlock helped his mother by massaging her neck when she was stressed so he was very good and very comfortable with this sort of touching.

John groaned into the pillow "That feels amazing!" the doctor mumbled his voice muffled by the fabric.

Sherlock smiled but felt like the angle was off so he pulled a leg over John's bottom and straddled the man.

"What are you doing?" the doctor asked turning his head to be heard and sounding a little panicked.

"I have a better angle from here. I'll do a better job if I am able to get the right angle." Sherlock replied grinding his palms into John's back silencing him.

"God, where did you learn to do this?" he asked some minutes later.

Sherlock smiled with amusement and satisfaction, hearing the relaxed tone in the doctor's voice "I used to give massages to my mother as a child and its Sherlock not God." John chuckled at that last bit. Sherlock felt the sound vibrate through the man's chest and up his hands, it tingled.

"Git," the doctor muttered snuggling back into the pillow.

It didn't take long until the man was snoring under Sherlock seeming perfectly at peace. Happy with the massage the still conscious genius rolled off of John. Lying down on the other side of the bed, Sherlock turned to watch the doctor.

What had happened? It had barely been a day since saving John and Sherlock was swooning. Never in his life had anyone affected him like this but here was this unassuming army medic fresh from war and Sherlock had fallen like a school girl without too much effort.

_Sentiment is a waste of time._

The familiar words ran through Sherlock's mind acting like a bucket of cold water. His brother had said it many times through the years and it was a thorn that had irritate the genius every now and then. Sherlock's eyes studying the sleeping man. John looked ten years younger with his face slack and almost wrinkle free. It made the younger man's breathe catch.

_I need to keep him alive._

Sherlock suddenly thought, just the idea of the doctor dying made him sick. Forcing those thoughts from his head the taller man rolled on to his side facing the other man.

"I'll keep you safe," Sherlock promised and settled into watching John sleep for the rest of the night.

*I'm sure you will Sherlock. Reviews please!


	6. Blind, Dead Banker

*Sorry for the delay guys! I've had so much going on and not a lot of time to write. So here is a nice long chapter!

Waking John felt fully rested, which was a lovely turn of events and hadn't happened in some time. He was warm, snuggling further in to the pillows, John felt a weight draped across his chest. Opening his eyes, he spotted a white limb stretched over him. Following the skin to the attached person, John found Sherlock.

The taller man was different, relaxed, and stilled in sleep. John could take his time to memorize the face before him. Sherlock's face was narrow with a small rounded chin, sharp, prominent cheek bones, and a small mouth with plump lips. Raven curls crowned his head brushing lightly over his forehead and his skin was pale, unblemished.

"You know it's rude to stare," Sherlock mumbled shifting his head to press against John.

Startled John froze with the contact. "I wasn't staring," he lied lamely.

Sherlock moved again lifting his head to look at the doctor's face. He chuckled softly, a small smile on his lips. "I'm sure you weren't," he supplied knowingly.

John felt a blush rising in his cheeks so he cleared his throat turning away to look somewhere else, anywhere else.

Sherlock rolled away from John removing the limb from the smaller man's chest. "Do you wish to shower again?" the taller man asked sitting up.

John sat up was well conscious that he was shirtless. "No, you go ahead." He offered.

Sherlock looked at him with those moon beam eyes before crawling from the bed. John remained on the bed even after the other man had left the room and he heard the shower being turned on. The doctor was enjoying the feel of the soft mattress knowing that he would be back in the hospital before night fall.

He was already missing the shared warmth from Sherlock and the comfort his body brought. John wasn't a very trusting person but this end of the world business had effected and forced him into doing things he had never thought he would do. John found he trusted Sherlock, fully trusted him. Not only because the other man had saved his life but for other unknown reason.

John just felt drawn to Sherlock, it was intense and startling. The doctor would like to think that he was slipping into insanity but the solider side of him wouldn't allow that. Sighing John concluded he only felt drawn to Sherlock because of the strong presence he radiated.

Not wanting to be found still in bed John forced himself up and dressed slowly. Even slowly dressing didn't take long and John headed for the kitchen. Rummaging around the doctor came up with a box of stale cereal and ate it dry. There was milk in the fridge but he didn't want to take that unsure of how Sherlock would react.

By the time John finished his meal Sherlock emerged from the bathroom bare chested with a towel wrapped around his hips. Seeing this, the doctor blushed and turned away to set his bowl in the sink to cover it. A chuckle came from Sherlock who had paused near the kitchen table when he noticed.

"Don't be bashful Doctor," he teased.

John glanced at the other man and couldn't help as his eyes drifted over the body before coming to rest on Sherlock's face.

_For God sake John! You are a doctor! _

"Rather arrogant aren't you?" John threw out trying to make his features passive. It didn't work.

Sherlock smirked with a smug look on his face and headed to his bedroom. The doctor watched until the younger man suddenly pulled the towel off, giving John the perfect view of his arse.

Jumping to turn away the doctor knocked one of the chairs over. It hit the floor with a resounding thud. Without looking at Sherlock, John shouted "Oi! Prick, shut the door!" as he bent to straighten the chair.

Another chuckle came from the room and the absence of a door being shut told the doctor he was ignored. Letting out a heavy breath John calmed himself, the heat in his cheeks was intense and he went to distract himself with a bit of tidying up.

"Are you quiet done?" Sherlock asked.

His voice sounded nearer and John did a quick glance to make sure the other man was dressed. He was.

"There's some cereal here," the doctor offered picking up the nearly empty box.

Sherlock shook his head and John frowned, "You should eat since you didn't last night." Again the other man shook his head.

"I'm not hungry."

John didn't believe it but he wasn't about to argue. Sighing, the doctor turned and leaned back into the counter behind him.

"So what is our plan?" he knew that they were going to go back to the hospital but the details were a little vague.

Sherlock looked him over steadily before answering, "Back to hospital?" though it sounded more like a question.

John chuckled as he answered, "So we're winging it? Great! Let's go."

Pushing off from the counter John went for the living room. Sherlock followed grabbing up his coat from a hook by the door where the doctor spotted his own. Going to grab it he was intercepted when the taller man got to it first. Sherlock pulled it down and held it open for John.

Giving him a curious look, the doctor slowly eased his arms in to the sleeves. Sherlock then helped John with the backpack still stuffed with cans. The shorter man's gun was pushed part way into his pocket while the make shift sword was slung through a belt loop, still easily assessable.

Sherlock was just finishing strapping his own weapon to his back when he spoke "Are you ready?" his tone was rather worried.

John smiled patting his friend on the back, "As ready as I'll ever be."

The taller man nodded and flipped the switch near the door and throwing them into darkness. John took a few unsteady steps forward bumping gently into Sherlock's arm. Slowly the door was unlocked, the sound of metal on metal screeched. The doctor winced, the sound seemed much too loud but he couldn't change that.

Gripping his make-shift weapon John watched as a sliver of light from the opening door start to grow. The alley was clear as it had been before. John was eager to get back to the hospital, hoping everyone was still surviving.

"Do you have a map?" he asked suddenly remembering he didn't know how to get back to the hospital from here.

Sherlock smiled, "Don't need one," he replied tapping the side of his head lightly, "Got one here."

John nodded "Ok then genius, you lead." He teased gesturing for the taller man to go first.

Sherlock chuckled before pressing forward starting off at a light jog. John didn't hesitate in following the other man. The sky overhead was cloudy and threatening rain, the slight rumble of approaching thunder announced a storm brewing. On days like this John relished the weather. He loved summer storms and it almost made him forget the walking corpses.

"Some broke through ahead," Sherlock warned as he spotted a small group of meandering figures and pulled his sword. John pulled his weapon as they grew closer.

The group of dead didn't notice the two men until body parts were dropping. A few gave hungry growls but none had time to react before they were all on the ground, permanently dead.

"Have I told you that you are magnificent?" John asked looking at his friend.

Sherlock smirked smugly "You haven't' but it doesn't hurt to say it as often as you can."

John laughed stowing his weapon "Prick," he said before Sherlock stalked off a slight smile on his face.

The remaining part of the alley was clear. Coming upon the dead-end where Sherlock had saved John, the tall man turned to the doctor stopping the other man in his tracks.

"I'm not used to the needs of other people John," Sherlock said suddenly his face blank.

John blinked confused by the sudden honesty. "I noticed that,"

The taller man didn't seem surprised by the response, "But I find myself worrying over your well-being," the doctor smiled but Sherlock continued, "I need you to be careful." It was a simple request but it saddened John.

"Sherlock," the smaller man sighed stepping closer to his friend, "I can't promise anything. I wish I could, I wish that I could promise that I will be fine but that is unrealistic." Sherlock lowered his eyes sadly. Reaching out John gently drew the other man's chin up so their eyes locked, "I will promise that I will do anything and everything I can to stay alive, how is that?"

Sherlock frowned looking the least bit satisfied, "It is the best I can hope for." He managed.

John smiled then hugged the man.

The taller man was like a board against the doctor. Feeling his friend's discomfort John quickly pulled away, his face flaming red with embarrassment.

"Forgive me." He mumbled focusing on Sherlock's chin then his eyes afraid of what he might see.

Without warning the taller man stepped closer and wrapped around John.

It was the doctor's turn to freeze. His hug had been a spare of the moment in a hope to comfort but this embrace was more comforting then any John could give. Sherlock, the supposed sociopath, was pouring all of his unsaid emotion into the contact. Coming back to himself John hugged the other man tightly. They relaxed into each other and the chaos of the world around them drifted away

This man, the doctor had barely known for two days, felt like someone he truly understood and thought the feeling was mutual. In the short amount of time John didn't want to ever part with Sherlock, never wanted to leave him behind or let him go where the army doctor couldn't follow. John considered himself straight, having never been attracted to any other man but Sherlock was…he was an anomaly.

The hug went on for several minutes before the two split but remaining close together. John smiled warmly up at Sherlock mentally cursing their dramatic height difference.

"Don't worry Sherlock we are going to be fine. We got each other." The doctor assured touching the taller man's arm.

Sherlock relaxed slightly giving a genuine smile, "As long as we are together." John nodded giving his friend's arm a quick squeeze before dropping his hands to his side.

Collecting themselves, again the two moved down the alley past the dead-end and out on to the street. It was clear from their point, dark wandering figures could be spotted in the distance. The sky had decided at that moment to open up and began to down pour. The two men were drenched in seconds.

"Great start for a wonderful day." John joked dryly.

Sherlock chuckled glancing at him. The tall man's dark curls were plastered to his head and dripping water. Without a word they pressed forward, John following behind slightly. Quickly making it down the street, they paused at the corner to glance around. The next street was packed with stumbling corpses and they were surprised they hadn't heard the buzzing of the grunts and hisses coming from the horde.

"Looks like this way is blocked any other plans?" John asked as they leaned into the wall.

Sherlock was looking around, "There is one other way…" he muttered his eyes weaving around at the buildings nearby.

This went on for several minutes without an answer. John was starting to shiver with a slight chill from standing in the rain and his muscles were cramping up from standing still.

"Sherlock!" John snapped quietly. The other man's eyes snapped over watching the doctor's shaking form, "Can we please move before I freeze?"

Sherlock frowned to around the corner once more as if to confirm the dead things were still there. Turning back to John the taller man eyed him. "We will have to be quick and hopefully our presence will go unnoticed." He spoke quickly eyes darting to the street opposite from where they were.

"We need to get over there," Sherlock pointed towards the area and his face looked grave, "The dead are attracted to noise more so than sight so if we are quiet and hurry."

John understood and could sense Sherlock reluctance. He mirrored it and wished that somehow there was another way. "Are you sure there is no other way?" he pressed hoping.

Sherlock sighed and shook his head "None unless you want to back track several miles and go around which will take time. Going about it that way we wouldn't make it to the hospital before dark." It wasn't reassuring.

John looked over to the street, it seemed so far away and yet it couldn't have been more than twenty feet. Clutching his fists and bringing forth solider mode the doctor turned to Sherlock, his body radiating alertness.

"What do we do?" he asked waiting for orders.

Sherlock's eyes widened noting the dramatic change, "We should go individually to avoid drawing attention."

John nodded. "You go first," the short man said.

Sherlock shook his head, "I much rather you go."

John glared, "Sherlock this is no time for being gentlemanly! You go first, your legs are longer and you can cover more ground faster so you will draw less attention then I will." The ex-solider growled before calming himself, "You go, then I will give it a minute or two before following but be ready to go when I reach you." It was clear the man wouldn't hear anymore argument.

Sherlock stared back defiantly but John could see his friend saw the logic in the words. Taking a deep breath the slim man edged closer to the corner of the building and looked around, "When you make to me, just keep running and be sure to follow me." Sherlock said glancing over at John. They locked for a second with deep fear haunting the irises. John smiled encouragingly.

Sherlock gave a curt nod and turned to prepare himself. A few second melted by before the man launched himself forward, racing quietly over the pavement. It wasn't a second more and Sherlock was safely on the other side pressed against the building. John listened, straining his ears to anything that may let him know if Sherlock had been spotted.

Nothing sounded and John felt relief wash through him, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Smiling the doctor gave Sherlock thumbs up as congratulations. The other man returned it with less enthusiasm and peeked around to look at the horde.

John copied him and happily noted that the mass seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. It was the perfect time to move before the zombie collective changed. Bracing himself the doctor gave the dead another look before pushing himself forward.

The seconds seemed to drag by and John felt like his was moving through pudding. Half way across John's foot slipped and he fell skidding on the asphalt. Ignoring the new sting from his knee the doctor was back on his feet and running for Sherlock.

Not waiting for the roar from the dead, the two sprinted off. They surged for an open alley half way down the new road. John felt warmth trickling down his knee but he focused on following Sherlock. The tall man wove down one alley then up the next. He did this several times before John realized his friend was doing it to lose any corpse that may have been following them.

Surprisingly these alleys were empty and after ten minutes of running the two stopped. John was panting heavily and slid to the ground, trying to catch his breath.

Sherlock knelt beside him and began examining the doctor. "Are you alright?" the tall man asked shaking from lingering adrenaline.

John went to speak when his knee flared with ignored pain. Looking down he noted blood had joined the water soaked jeans. "Looks like I scraped up my knee." John hissed as the pain throbbed from his knee. Slowly rolling up the denim, he was able to look at the wound.

The knee had been scraped raw and was slowly bleeding. The sound of ripping fabric caught John's attention. Sherlock had ripped off a piece from his shirt "What are you doing?" the doctor asked.

"We need to cover that, obviously."

Sherlock leaned forward easing John's leg forward and began wrapping the wound with the ripped shirt. The doctor hissed through his teeth but didn't fight as his friend finished.

Standing Sherlock stuck out a hand to help John. The doctor slowly stood without any weight on his leg, once up he eased down on the injured leg. Happily the leg didn't give under his weight but it did twinge a bit.

"Thanks," John said pressed down on the leg, "I didn't do too much damage but I can't move to fast."

Sherlock looked him over still looking fearful. The doctor gripped his friend's arm "I'm fine, let's get going." He tried to reassure. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly Sherlock nodded and looked around.

It took a second more of looking around before Sherlock got his bearings and trotted off down another alley. He kept the pace slow to accommodate John as the short doctor hobbled behind.

Without a warning a door Sherlock had just passed flew open spilling zombies in between the two. John took several quick steps backwards before turning and started running, barely noting Sherlock calling his name. The loud growls behind him told the doctor he needed to speed up if he ever wanted to see his friend again.

His knee protested loudly but John forced himself to ignore the very present pain. The growls had fallen back but John knew he was nowhere near being clear. Pushing himself even harder he searched frantically for a way out of his situation. The alley he was sprinting down seemed to be the cleanest backstreet in London! There was nothing!

"Fuck!" John breathed knowing he couldn't keep this up too much longer. Chancing a glance John counted a dozen corpses hot on his trail and gaining. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" he was chanting under his breath as he rounded a corner into a new alley.

The day was not his lucky day and the new alley held a new group of dead.

Skidding to a stop John spun and raced straight barely dodging the first crowd of followers that had just come around the corner. Dry, dead fingers snatched at his clothes but he was able to avoid any grabbing hold.

_I am going to die!_

John couldn't help but think as the hungry growls behind him escalated. There was no Sherlock to swoop in and save him this time. In only a matter of minutes the doctor would either be the next meal or become a part of the fleshing eating dead. He only hoped Sherlock had escaped.

On the verge of giving up John spotted a life line, his only life line! A fire escape ladder! It had been left down and if John was quick enough he could climb it. The dead may be fast in a full on run but climbing was something they didn't excel at. Using the last of his energy John pushed his short legs harder hoping to give himself enough time to climb beyond the reach of the corpses.

Near enough to the ladder John jumped on to the metal. His hurt knee slammed into the surface and it took everything in John not to collapse from the agony. Without hesitation John pulled himself up the ladder. The pressure of many hands grappling at the bottom of his shoes told John he would indeed survive some minutes more.

Making it to the fire escape landing John pulled himself up to lean into the cold metal, panting heavily and looking down on the hungry crowd below. Every head was looking at him, each making one noise or another with their arms stretched above their heads in attempts to reach him. None had even tried the ladder to the doctor relief.

He stayed sitting against the bars of the landing until his breathing was back to normal and the throbbing of his knee had died back. "Better get going," John sighed using the bars to pull himself up, "Might be able to find Sherlock."

It was a long shot but the doctor couldn't give up on his friend. A deep gut wrenching worry was aching louder than the ache of his knee. Climbing the remaining ladder up to the roof John looked around spotting the hospital right away and noted how close they had been before the surprise from the dead.

Turning away from the hospital John jogged in the direction he had come. The gaps between the buildings were slight and the doctor had little trouble jumping from one to the next. Retracing back, John saw the door the zombies had come from and continued following the alley he was sure Sherlock had taken.

Some time went by and John came to a split in the alley. One section ran back towards the main road and John dubbed in the least likely possible route that his friend had taken. Following the split it took John further from the street and deeper in between buildings.

The noise of loud snarling and hungry roars called John to hurry. Spotting a group of dead the doctor's stomach dropped. The dead weren't moving after anyone, they were clustered around a dumpster that was wedged into a corner. Fear ran through John and he moved closer to see what was going on with the crowd.

From behind the dumpster the doctor spotted the pale face of Sherlock as he fought to keep the heavy metal bin in place. John saw how the man was using the object to keep the dead out of reach and away from him.

Leaning over the edge of the building John noticed a fire escape just below him, he thought of a way to draw the corpses from the struggling man. The doctor kept quiet not wanting Sherlock to get distracted and decided to use himself as bait. It would probably draw a majority of the dead but not all, though enough his friend could deal with them.

Moving along the building John found another fire escape that would suite his needs nicely. Hurrying down the thing and back in to the alley, he crept up on the dead end Sherlock was trapped in. John could hear his friend's struggling breaths between the loud grunts and cries from the dead.

Moving out in to the open, Sherlock spotted John instantly and his eyes widened in horror. "Hey!" the doctor shouted cupping his hands around his mouth, "You guys hungry? Come get me!" without waiting John spun around and ran off.

"John!" Sherlock cried but that didn't stop the doctor as he hurried away.

The drumming of racing feet and the roars of the dead told John he had succeeded in drawing a crowd. Long before they reached him, the doctor was once again on the roof of the building. Happily John noted that a large chunk of the horde had followed him and his plan had worked. Moving away from the group the short man found his way back to where Sherlock was.

The man had dealt with the corpses and they now littered the alley in various pieces. Sherlock was standing over one of the bodies his sword gripping tightly in his hand. Easing his way down the fire escape John knelt and released the lever holding the ladder to the alley up and watched as it slid down. It hit the pavement with a loud thud startling Sherlock.

The tall man stared up in shock upon seeing John.

"How about you take your time getting up here?" the doctor teased leaning against the metal railing to look down on his friend.

Sherlock chuckled nervously and sheathed his sword before scrambling up the ladder. Within seconds the doctor found his arms full of another body. Sherlock wrapped around the short man nearly squeezing the life out of him. Patting the younger man on the back John tried to assure him, "See we're alright, nothing to worry about."

Sherlock released the doctor and looking down at him, "I thought I lost you." He murmured quietly.

"You can't get rid of me that easily." John joked feeling just as relieved as the other man.

Sherlock smiled "Very clever doctor, how do you come up with it?" he asked confusing John.

"Come up with what?"

"The diversion bit," Sherlock clarified.

John shrugged, "Saw you were trapped and had a way to do it, so I did it."

Sherlock chuckled and looked up, "It will be dark soon, best get going." He said moving for the ladder.

They climbed to the roof and used it to head for the hospital. It barely took an hour to get to the hospital and they didn't even have to climb down to the street to do it. They were able to jump down to the roof of the hospital, again keeping them safely off the streets. The scene down in front of the build was still inhabited by large groups of dead though not to the capacity John had seen days before.

"I don't know if these upper floors have been cleared," John confessed as they headed for the door into the hospital. Sherlock nodded and drew his weapon, opening the door. "These stairs lead to the top floor, we'll need to get to the other stair case to get to the second level." The doctor instructed as they stared down into the darkness of the hospital.

Sherlock pulled out a flare from his coat and lit it. The red glow of the flare showed an empty stair case that lead into more darkness.

"Let's go," the taller man said stepping into the building.

They moved soundlessly downward. It took five minutes to reach the top floor of the hospital. Pausing before Sherlock pulled the door open, he held his sword ready. The door let out a low screech as the hinges protested and he stopped pulling. John hissed under his breath at the noise gripping his own weapon tightly.

Nothing attacked which was a good sign, giving it another moment the two waited. Silence greeted them and Sherlock slowly pulled on the door. It didn't make a noise. When it was fully open the taller man stepped easily forward and John was close behind slowly closing the door. It squeaked quietly for a second before shutting.

The two froze, holding their breath and straining their ears. The quiet of the building was eerie and John secretly wished that something would attack to break the anxiety building in him. Sherlock pressed forward, his eyes darting as he made sure to step over abandoned things on the floor while watching for anything from the rooms nearby.

A low moan made the two halted and was quickly followed by another noise coming from one of the rooms. Sherlock glanced back at John who nodded towards the room where sound had come from. Silently they moved for the room.

In the hospital bed, strapped to the frame was a very decomposed body. The lower half of what was once a man was missing trailing grey and dead organs from the torso. The man was wearing the remains of a suit and John decided he had been some kind of business men or banker of some kind. The face was unrecognizable and was fleshless with protruding bone. The corpse had no eyes and they hadn't decomposed.

The two entered and the dead man gave another growl, it was feeble and weak. The thing sniffed deeply and a hand reached out towards John and Sherlock.

"Poor bloke," John muttered stepping forward and running his weapon through the corpse's head.

They left the room and hurried for the stairs. Opening the door to the stair well a horrible smell greeted them and Sherlock let the door slam closed as he covered his face. John backed away from the door, his eyes burning and sending him into a coughing fit.

As the doctor got control of his body again a hand gripped his ankle and suddenly yanked him off his feet. Crying out as he hit the floor heavily, knocking his weapon from his hand. John kicked blindly, his foot hit something and it growled at him. Twisting on to his back, John kicked again, harder. The grip didn't loosen. The doctor clearly saw a zombie's hand wrapped around his leg and slowly pulling itself closer. The hand moved up grabbing his calve.

"Sherlock!" John shouted kicking the things head again.

Sherlock didn't come and the ex-soldier's kicks didn't seem effective as the dead thing came closer. Fumbling John drew his gun and knew he would regret pulling the trigger but saw no other choice. As the bullet left the gun a deafening bang echoed through the floor. The thing attached to John's leg fell limp and he kicked it off.

Still on his back John glanced to see Sherlock struggling with a corpse of his own. Aiming his gun, the doctor pulled the trigger startling the other man when the thing collapsed to the ground. Exhausted John sank into the floor, ignoring the throb of his knee and the cans digging into his back.

"John," Sherlock spoke sinking down beside the man on the floor, "Are you hurt?"

John shook his head, "No just tired, you?"

Sherlock shook his head, "I was going to help you when this came out of nowhere," he gestured to the still body, "How many bullets do you have left?"

John sighed opening the gun up, "Four, we need to look for some ammo soon." He replied looking to his friend.

Sherlock nodded in agreement before pushing himself to his feet and reaching out a hand to John. The doctor stood but his tired body protested and he leaned into Sherlock.

It was a sort of half hug and John straightened himself groaning, "Damn! I am too old for this." He muttered rubbing his sore back as best as he could before leaning over to retrieve his weapon and stowing his gun back in his pocket.

"Here," Sherlock spoke a white cloth appeared to John. Looking at his friend, the doctor saw that the other man had torn more from his shirt and had a strip wrapped around his face, "For the smell." He offered. John nodded in thanks and took the cloth.

When both were ready Sherlock once again opened the door even with the coverings the smell was overwhelming and it took everything from the doctor not to start coughing again. The taller man grimaced looking back at John. A moment longer before Sherlock headed into the stench followed closely by the doctor.

They didn't find the source of the stink as they wound their way down several flights of stairs to the second floor but thankfully there were no dead waiting for them.

John took lead as he pushed opened the second floor door. He could smell fires burning and hear the low conversation of people.

"Hey guys I'm back!" the doctor called stowing his sword thing in his belt loop.

A loud commotion erupted as several people raced from various rooms all carrying a sort of weapon. It took everyone a moment to recognize John. The nurse Mary ran forward, dropping the bat she had and flew into John.

"We thought you were dead." Her voice was muffled as she buried her face in his shirt. The doctor chuckled patting the woman on the back.

"We heard gun shots." A man said as the others drew closer.

John nodded, "Sorry, yeah that was us. Had a little trouble on the top floor." A group of confused looks stared back at him. "We got in through the roof entrance," he clarified.

"Did you bring food?" another woman piped in.

John nodded untangling himself from Mary and pulling the pack from his back. The thing bulged with cans, "Should last us a week at least." He said tossing it to a nearby man. John remembered meeting most of these people briefly when he had first arrived but in the last few weeks he had kept to himself mostly and could sadly say he didn't know most of them by name.

"Sherlock Holmes?" someone spoke.

Sherlock stepped forward his own sword sheathed, "Where did you pick him up at?" another man snapped clearly not trusting the tall man, a few others whispered quietly.

John held up his hands, "Guys he saved my life!" he said.

"The sociopath saved you?" John looked to the man who spoke with curiosity.

Sherlock frowned glaring at the man "Anderson! How on earth have you survived, you of all people?"

Anderson was a tall, slim man like Sherlock but with none of the other man's finesse. He looked more like a weasel than a man.

The man Anderson glowered at Sherlock and was about to speak when he was shoved aside as another man stepped forward, "Thank god Sherlock!" the relief in the man's voice startled John and he looked closely at him.

He wasn't as tall as Anderson or Sherlock but stood above John. He had salt and pepper black hair and friendly brown eyes.

"Garth," Sherlock greeted moving to shake the man's hand but 'Garth' hugged him instead. Sherlock was stiff and looking to John with a look that clearly said 'help'. John chuckled and stood back, curious how these people knew his friend.

"It's Greg by the way," the man said when he had ended the hug but he was still smiling. John couldn't help but assume Sherlock forgot the man's name all the time.

"How did you end up here?" Sherlock asked and John was leaning in to hear.

Greg sighed heavily rubbing his face, "Can we eat first? It's been days!" The other's in the group all drifted away and began preparing a place to start the food. Sherlock glanced at John with a frown. The doctor gave him an encouraging smile and a pat on the back. He was looking forward to learning more about Sherlock.


End file.
